


Let Sleeping Kings Lie

by rabbithead



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Porn With Plot, Smut, a very dumb plot but a plot nonetheless, but it's really only in the first chapter, noctis is over 100 years old and sex starved ok, yea u read right it's gonna have a plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbithead/pseuds/rabbithead
Summary: "So beautiful…my Queen."But you don't say anything.You have nothing to say.Because there really was a monster.And you're not sure he'll let you go so easily.// Reader ventures into the forest hoping to debunk a legend; you can probably tell what happens next.





	Let Sleeping Kings Lie

There's an archaic legend about the woods that surround your town that tells of an old neighboring village, and its destruction at the claws of a ferocious creature.

In order to save themselves, the surviving villagers set Ifrit's fire upon the land, praying that the beast would perish at the expense of their homes. In the end, the only thing left of its ashes was a church dedicated to Eos' Six. Though the attacks ended there, the deaths did not; those who entered the church would never leave, as the beast did not die, but merely hid and claimed the building as its lair, waiting hungrily for the next fool who came sniffing.

But you always thought the legend was merely a tall tale woven by the village elders in order to keep people from wandering into the forest. There couldn't actually be anything  _that_  dangerous in those woods; if that were the case, then why would the creature stow away, rather than target the next village?

Against the wishes of the caretaker who raised you like her own, you disappeared into the forest on horseback with only a knapsack of essentials and a dagger (for safety measures). Perhaps you were being foolish for venturing the forest without even one  _human_ companion, but according to old maps the burned village couldn't have been that far. You would ride in, then ride out—simple as that.

Of course, it was extremely naïve thinking on your part.

The trip was longer than you'd thought; the further you rode the more obscure the trail became, until there was no trail at all.

A tempestuous wind howls in the dark; whirls of leaves scatter into the sky, illuminated by white flashes from within black clouds. Long branches stretch out like skeleton arms, their elongated fingers twitching; grotesque faces form on gnarled ebony with every flare of lightning. There are rows and rows of them, and they all stare with the gaze of a dead man.

You can't help the fear that begins to seep into your blood. It is nightfall, but you still see no sign of the burned village. Even your horse, a fine mare, begins to whinny in fear—jumping and nearly bucking you at the slightest brush of a branch. You had always known her to be a sweet but stubborn soul who wouldn't jump at anything, so her sudden anxiety did naught to comfort you.

Your blood pumps with adrenaline, and you grip the reins so tight your knuckles pale. But you refuse to turn back—not while you are so  _close._  You can sense it, in a way—like there is something ominous just a little further up beckoning you to come closer every minute.

However, the mare soon comes to a halt, the sudden stop nearly throwing you off her back.

"Whoa—wh-what's wrong, girl?" you murmur, patting her neck, "Keep going."

It nickers and shakes its head, trampling the ground in nervous fashion.

It was a warning sign, but you are ignorant, merely passing it off as exhaustion. With a sigh, you jump off her back and pat her muzzle. "I'll go on ahead. You stay here and wait for me, understand?"

She whinnies again, nicking at your hem of your cloak, yet you still do not understand. Instead, you pull the cloak from her teeth and wander forward. You push past thick bushes, crushing sticks and twigs under the sole of your boots. Despite the anxious atmosphere that settles on your shoulders, you feel no fear in this moment—only a strong desire to debunk the mystery that's always plagued your mind.

Eventually you come to a clearing, and your eyes go wide upon the sight.

A large building stands before you; it appears to be crafted from white stone and marble, and stands as tall as Bahamut. That wasn't what unnerved you, however…

… it was the eerily pristine condition the building kept that curdled your blood.

The church is clearly old, but not run-down. Its walls showed no sign of erosion, nor decay; even stained-glass windows are still intact—without a single mar on their surface. Your eyes pan up, settling on the large rose-window above the entrance to the doors. The tessellation of so many colors fascinates you, and you find yourself gaping in wonder.

For a building that supposedly survived the ravaging flames of Ifrit, it's immaculate appearance compels you.

The preoccupation is short-lived; a streak of lightning flashes across the sky, nearly disorienting your eyes that had already adjusted to the darkness.

_CRACK!_

You bolt for the entrance at the deafening clap of thunder, pushing the doors open and darting inside without a second thought. The doors ease shut behind you, and you flinch at the loud boom that follows behind. The sound reverberates against the walls, growing exceedingly distant, until inevitable silence.

The church is enormous; rows of benches stretch endlessly, caged in by giant pillars that reach the Heavens. The musky smell of dust and grime tickles your nose, but you suppress the coming sneeze; you have difficulty swallowing back the lump in your throat as you take hesitant steps forward. Every thump of your boots echoes with a hollow sound, and your heart beats with a frantic rhythm that has you almost fainting.

Against your better judgement, your stride towards the altar does not falter; you walk like a woman with a mission.

At the altar stand six, tall statues of Eos' Gods: Bahamut, Shiva, Ifrit, Leviathan, Titan, and Ramuh—their heads are lowered, and they all seem to gaze at the same spot. But as you approach the altar, you notice something protruding from the floor, and your flesh crawls when you realize what it is.

A coffin sits in an impeccably coffin-shaped space within the floor. The mahogany-wood it's crafted from is polished; not a scratch mars its gleaming surface. But unlike the caskets you've seen before, this coffin lacks a bouquet to blanket it.

You lean close, fingertips gliding along intricate trimmings as you study the coffin up close, your knees touching the ground.

_Creeeaak…_

The coffin lid  _moves._

You shoot backwards; your heel slips on your cloak and suddenly you're splayed backwards on the altar stairs. A low groan slips from your parted lips as you ease yourself up, rubbing the sore spot on your rear where you landed the hardest.

 _"Haaah…"_  hisses a disembodied voice from within the casket, and you're on your feet in a flash, stumbling backwards. The coffin lid moves just a centimeter before it is finally shoved off… and two pale hands emerge from within. They rise slowly, blue petals slipping from between long ivory fingers, then floating down in a graceful dance.  _"… What fool has come to disturb me from slumber?"_

You must be dreaming.

There's a monster.

**_There really is a monster._ **

You involuntarily gasp, and you're moving backwards much faster now. You're valiant, but you're no dunce either. You know how to pick your battles—and a battle with a demon is  _not_  one of them.

You twist around and stagger forward, racing for the church doors with the hopes of outrunning whatever creature has awakened inside the coffin. Your heart pounds with the rhythm of fear as your feet hits red velvet; suddenly the walkway is a mile long, and you're nowhere  _near_  the end.

You can hear the creature begin to hiss, and the adrenaline pumping in your blood quickens your pace. When the door is within reach, you throw an arm out, grabbing hold of the handle and pushing against it with the strength of Titan himself.

The door doesn't budge, and little cries of terror begin to reverberate within the room. You bang and shove, bang and shove,  _bang and shove but the door just won't fucking yield!_

Your fearful gasps grow increasingly vehement and frantic, until you're nearly screaming from fright. You can hear the rustling of cloth behind you, and the thud-thud-thud of feet treading upon red velvet. Thud-thud-thud, it grows ever close,  _thud-thud-thud._

_Thud._

Your hands stop banging but your heart doesn't; a drop of sweat gradually trickles down your brow as your blood turns to ice.

_Thud._

It's closer now.  _So much closer._

**_… Thud._ **

A sweet floral scent fills your nostril, and a warm breeze touches the back of your neck. You can hear it's faint breathing behind you, yet you still face the door, paralyzed with trepidation. To your left, a pale hand rests on the door beside you; the other pulls your cloak back, fingers gently tracing the curve of your waist…

Down your hips…

And down your thigh... until wrapping around the hilt of your dagger—your only weapon.

Your joints stay frozen as your eyes follow the silver blade of your knife, watching the way it tilts towards you, tip pointed at your throat.

"What a dangerous weapon you carry, human," a man's voice mumbles silkily, and your guard almost drops from the clemency of his timbre, "Have you even the skill to wield it?"

You can't figure out if the question is rhetoric or not.

When the monster realizes you are not going to answer, he lowers the blade to the drawstring of your cloak and eases the tip underneath, snapping it in half with the slightest flick of his wrist. The cloak parts and slips past the balls of your shoulders before crumpling into a pile around your feet.

The dagger gets thrown aside as his free hand grabs you by the shoulder and spins you around… and you're suddenly face-to-face with what has to be the most beautiful man you've ever laid your eyes upon.

His face is long and his jawline shapely; narrow, close-set eyes are smoldering in the way they study you. They're a sharp blue, almost mesmerizing. He tilts his head, dark bangs that frame his face shifting slightly as he does so, and his eyes pan downwards.

"Hmm…" he hums, low and throaty, "There's plenty of buffoons for me to feed off in these woods… but it's been some time since I've last  _bed_  a human."

He held your chin up with two fingers and leaned close; his eyes, previously blue, was now a luminous fuchsia. "You're a rather lovely woman—tell me your name."

Your eyelids begin to droop as a strange feeling overcomes you. The fuchsia eyes that study you are so brilliant; the way they rake up and down your body with the hunger of a starved predator makes you feel tingly and restless inside, as though your body craved something you were not aware you needed.

"… Y/n," you mumble, "I am y/n."

"Y/n"—he likes the way it sounds on his tongue, and mumbles it a few times over—"It's fitting."

* * *

It truly has been some time since Noctis last held a woman, after the death of his beloved Lady Lunafreya hundreds of years ago.

Though the girl standing before him looks nothing like his deceased betrothed, she is certainly alluring; it was only due time he moved on and satisfied those lingering desires for human warmth that plagued him in his sleep.

"I am Noctis"—he takes her hands and begins to pull her backwards—"Noctis Lucis Caelum."

The woman hums in response, but her eyes hold a distant gaze. The vampire is happy to see that even after all this time, his hypnosis still works—but knows it won't stay for long. With the limited diet he's taken on, he doesn't have enough power for that. She will inevitably come to her senses.

When the two reach his coffin, he wastes no time in laying her down within the casket. "You're so obedient, my sweet," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."

She gazes up at him and smiles faintly, but does not respond. Six, she's Ophelia come to life with the way she's splayed beneath him, sylleblossoms petals scattered on her skin like bright-blue stains. The vampire is quick to strip her of her bottom layers, throwing her pants and boots aside before undoing the buttons of her blouse.

He sunders her shirt and takes a moment to admire her shapely bosom before sliding his hands over her soft breasts, squeezing gently. The action elicits a faint mewl from her, and sends a familiar shiver across Noctis' dead flesh.

_Eagerness._

_Excitement._

**_Lust._ **

His tongue traces his bottom lip as he recalls the long, lonesome nights he spent sleeping in solitude—void of his lover's warmth. But tonight, that would change.

The vampire leans back and with deft fingers, undoes black-pearl buttons and shrugs off his silk top before leaning over the maiden beneath him. She wears such a beautifully dazed expression, muted pleas for his touch slipping past her parted lips.

"Who am I to refuse a lady so fine as yourself?" he mumbles against her lips, reveling in the warmth of her soft breaths. He continues to play with her breasts as they share a passionate kiss, and he's careful not to mar her lips with his fangs.

"Ooh, Noctis…" she whines, the neediness in her tone titillating his hardening cock. A low groan passes his lips and he involuntarily ruts against her damp folds as he slides one hand down her stomach and towards her womanhood. His fingers slip between her slick folds and begins teasing her clit with light strokes and gentle flicks; her hips squirm at his playful ministrations but he refuses to give in, and smiles when her quiet little gasps become louder.

Finally, he plunges his fingers deep inside her, and the sound she makes is simply  _adorable._  His pace is relentless, but she doesn't seem to mind with the way she rocks her hips against his hand and whimpers desperately. Her supple breasts bounce with her clumsy movements, and Noctis leans down to mouth her pebbled nipples, tonguing and suckling them with ferocity.

"N-Noctis"—she breathes, a mixture of gasps and moans slipping from her glossy lips—"I'm going to cum!"

He lifts his head and gazes at her, the corner of his lips twitching up into a simper. "Don't hold back, y/n, sing for me—let the Gods above you know that it is  _Noctis Lucis Caelum_  who beds you!"

_"Aaahh… N-NOCTIS!"_

She shivers violently underneath him, and lets out a cry that fills him with power. Yet, he continues to thrust his fingers inside her, reveling in the choked gasps that fall from her open mouth. Finally, she unravels beneath him with a heavenly moan, her body twitching and trembling as she comes undone. Then, she falls onto her back again, but her chest continues to heave. Noctis rewards her with light kisses across her sweat-covered brow and slides his slick hands over her bosom again. "Well done, my lovely," he whispers against her skin, rubbing circles around her tits. "Well done. And now…"

He rises and moves to unbutton his pants, releasing his cock; it's thick and hangs heavy, and Noctis acknowledges the lust that flashes in her glassy eyes with a playful smirk.

"It's  _my_  turn."

* * *

You watch Noctis with anticipation, admiring the generous size of his erection. You weren't a virgin, by any means, but it had been a long time since you last felt pleasure from a man's touch. Most of the men in your village were brash and obstreperous—they didn't believe that women's gratification should come before a man's.

But Noctis is different.

Your eyes follow him as he positions himself at your entrance, rubbing against your labia at a leisurely pace that does naught to satisfy your returning titillation. Then in one quick thrust, his cock is inside you; it throbs desperately, and a low, guttural moan slips from his lips as he grinds his pelvis against your hips, pushing his cock the deepest it can go. He maintains that position with a face scrunched in content, relishing your warmth.

"Six, you— _nnngh!"_  he grunts and finally pulls out—only to slam his cock back inside you with the strength of Titan, "Y-You hold onto me rather tight!" he hisses, now rocking his hips fervently against yours. You try to say something back, but all that comes out are lewd sounds. You moan his name like a mantra, gripping his buttocks as he thrusts into you.

Six, he's bigger than he looks—every swing of his hips brings a whole new wave of pleasure over your body.

The air becomes heavy incredibly quick, and you can feel the little knots in your stomach begin to constrict. Your eyebrows furrow and sweat forms on your brow, and you hold him close, nipping at his earlobe as you mutter hushed praise for his skill.

"If I truly feel that wonderful, Y/n"—the man groans as he rises, shoving you back onto the bed of sylleblossom petals by the throat—"Then share that with the Gods whom you humans love and cherish so dearly!"

The cut-off of your air circulation has your mind spinning in circles and you feel as though you're floating; your vision blurs erratically, and his fuchsia eyes glow with a different kind of hunger now. The corner of his parted lips twitches up into a smirk, and you see them _—you can see his fangs._

You nearly choke on the influx of air that fills your desperate lungs when he releases your neck; your head lolls back and your eyes pan up, settling on the massive statue of Bahamut that seems to watch you. No—not just him, but all of them—they all gaze at you with contempt and shame.

Then everything becomes clear. Your mind is rid of that haze of lust that disillusioned your consciousness; everything that is happening is very real _—and very wrong._  You gaze up at the beautiful creature that fucks you mercilessly, and the fear from before seeps back into your skin.

Then Noctis leans towards you, his honed fangs now visible, and chuckles in that sensuous, low voice of his. His eyes hold yours in a smoldering gaze, and his whispers, "You're  _mine_  now, Y/n."

 _Oh Gods, how had this come to be_?

You scream for mercy from the Gods who watch you, their stone eyes vacant yet ominously indifferent. All Six of them surround you: Bahamut, Shiva, Ifrit, Leviathan, Titan, and Ramuh—their passive gazes shaming you for the indecent gasps and moans that slip from your tongue. If you were truly devout, if you were truly sorry—you would have never come to this place.

And now they have forsaken you.

_They have forsaken you!_

"Please!  _Please!"_  you sob, clawing at the arms that hold you down, your thighs spreading even wider as the monster brings himself closer to your body. Low grunts resound in your ears when his hips snap forward, and his tongue traces up the shell of your ear, his hot breaths tickling your lobe.

"Who is it that you cry for?" he groans, releasing a blissful sigh when your cunt involuntarily squeezes, and the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside you rips a strangled cry from your throat. Again, you plead to the Gods above, begging for their forgiveness.

 _"PLEASE!_ PLEASE FORGIVE—"

His hand covers your mouth, and his luminous fuchsia narrowing with a dangerous glint. Then he leans close, his lips brushing your lobe.

**_"There are no Gods here, foolish girl."_ **

A sharp pain erupts in your neck, but your scream is muffled by his hand. You're quick to realize that it's his  _teeth_  that are embedded into your flesh, and you squirm desperately underneath him—but he's unperturbed by your struggle. He continues to drain you of blood while his hips rock wildly against yours; you can feel him grunt against your skin with every thrust. Then a feeling of euphoria overcomes your tired, aching body and perhaps it's from the blood-loss or maybe remnants of the lustful spell you'd been under, but you can feel yourself begin to succumb to the mad, frantic pace that's the vampire's set.

Indecent squelches and a chorus of moans reverberate against the walls of the church, and your eyes never leave the vacant gaze of Bahamut. He stares at you with such contempt you feel dirty, dirty,  _dirty—_ but you cannot control the fiery lust that burns within your veins as Noctis feeds from you.

Then finally, after what seems like eons, he pulls away from your neck. Crimson-blood trickles down his chin and stands prominent against his alabaster skin as he throws his head back and moans with such passion, the knots in your stomach snap from the tension, and with a cry of your own you come undone alongside him.

Something warm fills you from inside, and finally, your stiffened limbs relax. Noctis lays on top of you, wisps of his hair sticking to your sweat-covered bosom. He's still nestled inside you, relishing your warmth for as long as possible. Then, he whispers:

"So beautiful…  _my Queen."_

But you don't say anything.

You have nothing to say.

_Because there really was a monster._

_And you're not sure he'll let you go so easily._

**Author's Note:**

> Btw if you didn't figure it out already this AU takes place during the early 1800s in modern time, so that's why Noctis sounds like an old man and you live in a village.


End file.
